Still photo-less.

Grrrrrr to it.

Words will have to do.

I have done some sewing. Only two poxy rows of ziggyzaggy, ready to pop a zip in. But to anyone who has been in this godforsaken land of inertia, you might just understand the importance of this.

There is a world of difference between wanting to sew, and actually getting the machine out, rigging it up, sorting the bits you plan to sew. A whole world that can seem (and in fact BE) insurmountable when you are utterly drained. The mind is willing but the body is broken, or vice versa. It is bloody frustrating!

I learned to sew before I was taught knitting and crochet; I have photos of me with my 6th birthday gift, a lovely sewing box with drawers and wotnot filled with threads, needles, scissors. I absolutely LOVED that box! I also had one of those toy sewing machines that were forever breaking / knotting the threads / breaking. My mum did a lot of sewing; one year my sis and I received lovely large dolls for Christmas, each with an amazing set of hand sewn clothes. Red velvet capes edged in lace, silvery ball gowns. I remember mum sewing when we went to bed, set up in the little bedroom which later became my own room.

As I got older mum taught me to make pencil skirts (what can I say, EVERYONE had pencil skirts!), blouses etc. My beloved nan used to cut down my gag's old coats to make new coats for my mum and my aunty when they were little girls, so crafty things run in the blood.

I used to sew for a living when my daughter was little - I sewed for several shops, did alterations from home, then branched out into ballgowns (huge demand for these as I lived in hunt ball territory)(yes, personal politics take second place to ethics when one is skint), the occasional wedding dress and curtains galore. My dining room became a permanent sewing room with rails and rolls of fabric, absolute bliss. I trained as a pattern cutter many (many) moons ago at art college, and loved speading out huge sheets of pattern paper and making it all up as I went.

So going from that to not even having the energy to cut out a pattern (or not having the physical ability, I can't cut out on the floor anymore or my knees will have me up before a tribunal for unfair suffering) has been hard.

I rang mum the other day to tell her I had sewn two lines - and she completely understood what this meant to me.

I am hoping to make it across the living room to the table today (I spent yesterday asleep until 4pm!) and actually SEW that damned zip in, rather than thinking about it. I have two cushion cover front all knitted up, ready to be backed - wish me luck!